CREEPYPASTA

The Chimney Man

My dad built his dream cabin in the southern Ozarks back in 1991, a reward to himself for achieving early retirement. The damn thing took nearly a year to build, what with the county having to actually build the road to my family's property at the top of a small mountain. I was 14 at the time, and yes, we were wealthy, but the cabin didn't reflect that. It was simple, unlike most of the monstrosities you see in places like Aspen these days, and at that age I was ruined into thinking that I'd rather live in a city, where I'd have an easier time being spoiled rotten. I despised being there, to say the least.

We moved into the cabin in midwinter, a couple of weeks before Christmas. Everyone was excited, except me, to be moving in to enjoy Christmas morning in front of the big-ass fireplace my dad gloated over. Amelia, my little sister, was six at the time, and she was elated that Santa would have such an easy entry point- our old house didn't even have a chimney. Looking back, the first day was an omen. But there was no way we could have known.

We pulled up to the cabin around noon on December 12th, my sister playing Kirby's Dreamland on her Gameboy and me listening to Nirvana on my Walkman. Again, I was not excited. Mom and Dad were chipper, as usual, and it was grating on my nerves. My dad wouldn't shut up about how he'd had the fireplace hooked into the central system so that all the heat would be distributed evenly throughout the house. We all began unloading what we had in the back of the Bronco, everything else having been moved in (at great expense) a few days before. My father's annoyingly happy face drooped into a mild frown when he shouldered open the front door.

"Looks like the movers didn't care too much about the new carpet." He said sarcastically.

There in the living room, starting where the wood floors ended from the foyer, was a trail of footprints in the carpet, apparently made with soot, leading from just in front of the entry, to the fireplace, to the back door. I snorted at my father's comment, which earned me a side-eye for the ages from my mom. We sat down what we were carrying in our respective rooms, and of course, I was tasked with cleaning up the mess while my dad called the moving company to complain.

Whilst I was scrubbing (and fuming), it occurred to me that if the footprints were in fact soot, that it would be hard to explain why the fireplace had already been used in a brand new cabin. At the time, I assumed that there had to have been a test run by the builder to ensure everything was in working order. It took me about an hour to bring the carpet to my parent's satisfaction, and then I promptly went to my new room to continue wallowing in my teenage angst.

That night, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched in the shower, that someone was standing just on the other side of the curtain. I tried to ignore it, but the feeling worsened when I closed my eyes to wash my hair and face. Finally, I pulled back the curtain, feeling foolish for being such a wimp. Of course, I found nothing unusual.

I wrote my paranoia off as just being pissed off from the move and didn't think much of it. I didn't have another strange encounter for several days, but about a week after I got the shower stalker vibe, Amelia let my mom and I know about her new friend at the breakfast table.

"How did everyone sleep last night?" my mother asked, trying to get through my solemn disdain.

"Fine." I replied, through a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

"I played with the man behind the curtains!" Amelia exclaimed, "I told him that he would be in big trouble if he kept getting the rug dirty."

"Oh that's wonderful, honey," my mom said, "I'm glad you've made a friend. Tell them I said thank you for not getting any more stains on the carpet."

It made me bitter, listening to my mom placate my sister while I was in social isolation. Mom just kept sipping her coffee, and reading the newspaper that Dad paid extra to have delivered out that far in the wilderness. There was no fear in my sister's voice, and neither of us even remotely considered the possibility that her new friend was anything more than imaginary.